


tiny dancer

by zephyriaus (avsivn)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 01:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18063935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avsivn/pseuds/zephyriaus
Summary: upon a rare occasion you decide to give in to your subtle desire and showcase your hidden talent, only to be discovered by a rather curious guitarist | gwilym lee! brian may x seamstress! ex-dancer! reader





	tiny dancer

It was during those few days before the start of “A Night At The Opera’s” concert tour where you finally met Brian May.

Clad in acid washed jeans and a white button up blouse, you gave in to your proclivity, grasping the ends of a newly-sewn long sleeved shirt, twirling gracefully around the floor of the dressing room, and dancing to the soft melody of Queen’s “’39”. Your movements brought back those wonderful ballet memories, the ones where you still resided in London, enrolled in the Royal Dance Academy.

Truthfully, you were rather thankful for the band’s release of an operatic-theme rock album. It gave you the opportunity after to fully enjoy your private indulgences of a long suppressed talent where your body moved in unison with the melody of the music and still maintain a rhythm compatible to the beats of the instruments.

Modeling different types of fabric in front of the tall mirror, you tucked a loose strand behind your ear, rocking your heels to the strums of the guitar, goofing off almost.

Until a soft knock on the door distracted you, making yourself obligated to pay the caller notice and to recognize him as Brian May who merely regarded you in a rather enthused state.

Moments passed in a blur as you busied yourself rushing towards fulfilling his demands, as soon as you regained your composure. God, there wasn’t anything else you wished so much for at that very moment than to head to your hotel room and cloak yourself within the welcoming linen sheets, a makeshift shield to cover your flustered state.

Clear cut features complimented an austere jaw line as a wild, untamed hair framed a distinctly handsome face. The hazel orbs contained a bright sheen resembling that of childlike amusement with explicitly observant vision intently aware of the precise detail in which your nimble fingers needled strands of thread together in a hurried state, incredibly anxious at the amount of attention that was being paid to your actions as you practiced your craft.

Slender fingers encased your thin wrists halting your nervous movements as you expelled a tentative breath you hadn’t the slightest bit of knowledge that you were holding.

“If you carry on sewing like that, you might as well pierce my heart.”

Flustered, you averted your eyes to the ground.

“If you keep staring like that, I just might.”

A soft laugh fell from his lips and soon you found yourself joining him, a rosy tint blossoming over your soft cheeks.

You didn’t understand the practicality behind his reasoning to wear the shirt with loosening buttons that threatened to come loose at the slightest amount of pressure. Not that you were exactly complaining. The fact remained that the slight exposure of his chest was incredibly distracting and a deliberate strategy that successfully contributed to your disheveled appearance.

“There” you announced, buttoning the velvet shirt close, regrettably confining the immaculate pair of collarbones underneath the surface of the soft fabric, “You shouldn’t have any problems with loose buttons now.”

The man merely sighed, “That’s unfortunate. I was actually beginning to enjoy your company.”

Scoffing, you resisted the urge to roll your eyes and coughed up what you hoped was an equally teasing response to redeem yourself.

“As irresistible as I am, Mr. May, I do believe that you are expected to adhere to a certain schedule within the next few weeks.”

“Oh dear.”, tilting his head to the side, the guitarist surmised, “Then I suppose I’ll have to find some more loose buttoned shirts in that stead.”

Within the next few days you discovered an alarming amount of loose buttoned shirts. It took you a full week before you realized the threads were not frayed with strands but effectively snipped from their place.

All belonged to Brian May.


End file.
